Bad Girl Reputation (Avalon Bay #2)(56)

“Not true,” I protest. “There was a high point there when we managed to right the ship and not entirely capsize.”

He’s still laughing as we make our way to the crowd gathered around the platform, cheering for the winners and politely congratulating all those who placed. I’m just glad we’re not getting stuck with a bill for salvaging the boat off the bottom of the bay.

As it turns out, I can’t sail for shit. It’s hard, actually. So many ropes and pulleys and winches, who the fuck knew. I thought you just put the sail up and steered, but apparently there’s such a thing as oversteering, and steering left to go right for some stupid reason. Almost the second the starting gun went off, we were discombobulated. Came in dead last after tipping the boat and nearly going in the drink.

But Riley’s still laughing, absolutely stoked on the whole ordeal. Mostly at my suffering, I think, but that’s okay. The kid had a great time, which was the whole damn point to begin with.

“There’s my guy.” His aunt Liz, a petite woman with pretty brown eyes and long hair tied in a low ponytail, finds us among the spectators and gives him a hug. “You have fun?”

“It was a blast,” Riley says. “For a minute there, I thought we were goners.”

“Oh,” she says, covering her alarm with a laugh. “Well, I’m glad you both survived.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a much better swimmer than I am a sailor. I wouldn’t let your kid drown.” I say this, of course, shirtless, with a full back of tattoos. Lady probably thinks I look more like Riley’s drug dealer than his role model.

“Can I have some money for the hot dog stand?” Riley pleads. “I’m starving.”

With an indulgent smile, Riley’s aunt hands him a few bucks and sends him off.

“Trust me,” I assure her, now concerned that putting a kid’s life in mortal peril might reflect poorly on my participation in the program. “He wasn’t in any danger. Just a minor mishap.”

Liz waves off my concern. “I’m not worried. He hasn’t had this much fun in a long time.”

I think about the Riley I met that first afternoon—the shy, quiet teen who spent the first couple hours staring at his feet and mumbling to himself. Cut to today, where he’s shouting commands at me and taking snarky jabs at my lack of nautical prowess. I don’t know if it’s what the program had in mind, but I’d call that improvement. For our relationship, at least.

“He’s a cool kid. Who knows, maybe he can teach me how to sail and we can try again next year.” I surprise myself when it occurs to me what I’ve just said. I hadn’t given much thought to how long this arrangement would last. But now that I give it some consideration, I couldn’t imagine Riley and I not being pals a year from now.

“You know, I think you mean that.” Liz studies me, and I can’t help wondering what she sees. “I do appreciate everything you’ve done for him. I know it’s only been a couple weeks, but you’re starting to mean a lot to Riley. You’re good for him.”

“Yeah, well …” I slide my sunglasses on and make another attempt at wringing out my wet shirt. “He’s not a total asshole, so …”

She laughs at that, letting me off the hook. I’ve never been great at taking compliments. Being the consummate screwup doesn’t often give a lot of reason for praise, so I guess you can say I haven’t had much practice. And yet somehow, this kid turns out to be one of the few things I’ve gotten right. I’ve seen him several times a week for more than two weeks, and despite all odds, I haven’t screwed him up yet.

“I need to get him home so I can head to work,” Riley’s aunt says. “But I’d like it if you came by for dinner one night. The three of us. Maybe next week?”

The fleeting notion of what would be in some alternate universe if Liz took a shine to me skips through my brain. Until I glance over her shoulder to spot black hair and long, tan legs, and the universe—this universe—reminds me there’s only one woman for me on this plane.

Gen is strutting down the boardwalk in some girly white dress that gets my blood hot. Because she’s trying. She’s trying to impress this dweeb, to look the part by dulling herself to his milquetoast sensibilities. She’s grinding down the sharp edges that make her everything that’s fierce and dangerous and extraordinary, and I won’t stand for it.

“Sure,” I tell Liz, while my attention remains elsewhere. “Let’s do that. Tell Riley bye for me? Just saw a friend I need to say hi to.”

I jog through the crowd, dodging sweaty tourists and sunburnt children to catch up to Gen. Then, I slow down and manage to get in front of her and the guy, because now she’ll have to notice me and say something, alleviating all guilt of crashing her date for a second time.

“Evan?”

I feign surprise as I turn around. “Oh, hey.”

I can sense her rolling her eyes behind those reflective sunglasses. She smirks and shakes her head. “Oh, hey? You get you’re terrible at this, right?”

Sometimes I forget I’ve never been able to put one over on her a day in my life. “Yeah, you know, I’d love to hang around, but I’m kinda busy, so …”

“Uh-huh.”

With my shirt slung over my shoulder, I nod at Deputy Dolittle in his standard-issue Tommy Bahama. “Nice shirt.”